


A Nightly Walk

by bringtherain



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Mistletoe, POV Alternating, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes, Slight pining, Time Skips, bucky gets mopey a bit but it doesn't last, chapter 2 contains brief descriptions of bug body parts, christmas fluff if you squint, little to no angst, may have mentions of inaccurate medical science stuff bc I did zero research for that part, though alternating isn't the word I'd use POV switches is more accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8963710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringtherain/pseuds/bringtherain
Summary: During the day the metal posts that lined the streets were ornamental and lifeless, but at night they stood with purpose and insects flocked to their warm glow as they came alive.Bucky is a lamplighter and one night something curious happens on his walk…





	1. The lamplighter

**Author's Note:**

> loosely set in 19th century London but you can imagine they're in New York or anywhere else if you want
> 
> for a short fic this took me ages to write and I'd just like to give a special shoutout to my best bud [sophie](http://sonya-rostova.tumblr.com), I couldnt have done this without her

A young man cut a lonely figure as he walked along the darkened street. He walked like he had somewhere to be but didn’t feel it urgent enough to hurry up; purposeful yet leisurely. By now, the sun had completely set but he was not concerned. Darkness did not make him nervous; he wouldn’t have taken the job otherwise. He stopped walking once he reached the lamppost. Pole in hand, he lights the first lamp on the corner of the street.

He knows providing light doesn't help as much as people like to believe it does, with the world the way it is people’ll get beat up ‘cause they’re smaller or they can’t defend themselves whether they can see where they’re going or not. But he’ll be damned if his efforts don’t at least reduce the chances of someone getting jumped. Even just a little bit.

He let his eyes track the moths and their madly beating wings. During the day the metal posts that lined the streets were ornamental and lifeless, but at night they stood with purpose and insects flocked to their warm glow as they came alive. It was much like how Bucky felt before he had landed a job.

He was a lamplighter and the night was his. He continued walking.


	2. The scientist's assistant

A young man cut a lonely figure as he walked up the steps to his flat. He let himself in and immediately plopped down onto an old, worn armchair by the window. He let himself sink into the cushions for a minute or two and closed his eyes, tired like anyone else would be. He wasn’t completely winded from just a short walk, he’s perfectly fine, his medical problems don’t exist. No, he’s not fooling anyone, not even himself. There’s a reason why no one would hire him before Dr. Erskine gave him a chance. Steve Rogers sat back up again, he had work to do. Slowly, he reached for his sketchbook and some charcoal.

/******/ 

He had a clear view of the busy street outside.

As he watched the people pass by, he wondered whether they were doing something they actually enjoyed or they’re just trying to make ends meet. He sighs. He’s happy with where he is now, don’t get him wrong, being an assistant to a scientist was great, but sometimes he just finds himself really missing art school. Really missing his mom.

If he’s being honest with himself, he knew it was only a matter of time before either he’d be forced to drop out or they’d kick him out. It was just unclear whether that would be due to his dwindling finances or his worsening health after his mother died. Still, when the official notice from the school arrived in the post it hit like a ton of bricks. The only thing that helps him feel better is the fact that he’s contributing to a good cause. What he does helps people. Or it will. Sometime in the near future. Dr. Erskine had said they were close.

Dr. Abraham Erskine was studying the Industrial Revolution and its effects on the health of both people and wildlife, how it’s changing their environment. People might be getting a bit too carried away with their inventions and the prospect of a world of fancy mechanical contraptions and whirring inventions. They pour so much work into developing their machines they don’t realize how the smoke pouring out of factories and all that pollution is affecting the environment. Progress shouldn’t mean the sacrifice of the literal air you breathe.

He returns his focus to the sketchbook in his lap and the piece of charcoal in his hand, sketching powdery wings and twitching antennae, glistening eyes and spindly legs and mandibles. He still people watched but his subjects as of late were insects, with some anatomy studies of various birds, and landscapes thrown in. His eye for detail significantly helped with Dr. Erskine’s work, especially since his research entailed a lot of visual data on the environment to take note of, things he’d have to illustrate.

And Steve’s not just fighting for himself, taking a stand with his weak lungs and strong will, he’s doing it for anyone like him and future generations. With his research, Dr. Erskine planned on creating a medicine that would help those with chronic illness or weakened immune system due to the pollution.

Steve finished shading the hind wing of the moth he had drawn and flipped to the next page.


	3. The meeting

Steve had only realized the glaring flaw in his plan when he was already standing at the base of a lamppost. Still, not one to give up, especially not to something like height, he hugged the cold metal, trying to inch his way up, a bunched up cloth held in between his teeth. In retrospect, he should’ve just brought a ladder.

/******/ 

Some nights, Bucky found himself going through the motions. He walks, he lights a streetlamp. Occasionally he has to inspect its gas mantle or do minor maintenance work on it, he walks again. But other nights he finds himself in a sort of idyllic mood, admiring the night sky and quietly waxing poetic about the constellations to himself. The night he met Steve was one such night. He had just rounded the corner and there he was, the 5’4” skinny blond who just didn’t know when to quit. He had a fierce determination burning in him for some reason compelling him to climb up a lamppost.

/*******/ 

“Hey, you there! I don’t think you should be-”

Startled, Steve fell. He slid right down and landed on his butt.

“Aw, jeez, are you okay?” the newcomer, a man not much older than himself, said as he held out his hand to help Steve up. The cloth had also fallen, rumpled on the cobblestones. The man must’ve been a lamplighter; he had that pole with him in his other hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Why were you-”

“Trying to shimmy my way up a lamppost with a cloth?”

“I was going to say trying to mess with my job, if this is some kind of prank or something…”

“It’s not! I swear! I was just,” Steve made a vague motion with his hands “going to observe the moths,”

”Observe the moths?” the lamplighter tilted his head curiously.

“Yeah, you drape a sheet over the lamp, just make sure the cloth’s not too opaque so light can still pass through and the moths will land on it. It’s the perfect backdrop for observing them.”

/*******/ 

Bucky knew some people just really liked bugs. He knew there are people who’d actually pay lamplighters to either 1) catch some for them or 2) let them tag along on their route so they could catch the bugs themselves. But this was the first time he saw someone determinedly trying to do this thing alone.

“So, punk, you like _bugging moths_?”

“Jerk, this is for _scientific research_.”

Every night after that, whenever Bucky rounded that corner, he’d smile. 


	4. The winter months

Bucky had lots of friends sure but they weren’t the kind who liked walking around at night admiring the moonlit city streets and the star strewn sky, just talking about life. That was the kind of thing he could only do with Steve. Steve was, Steve was something else. Just being around him was a daily reminder that the world could be a better place. He went out of his way to help stray cats because “it’s the right thing to do, Buck!” and never made offensive jokes or comments, for one thing. Steve was just the kind of person who’d inspire you to do the same.

Not to mention his profile even in the dim light showed off his incredible jawline.

 

Occasionally, they’d brush shoulders while walking. The contact, however brief, left Bucky feeling warm for the rest of the night.

/********/ 

Over time, every night had become every other night for Steve. Sometimes he was tasked to do something that would require him to stay in his flat instead of going out and observing moths like pouring over papers with Dr. Erskine, other times he physically could not get up and had to stay in bed. After about a fortnight, the data Steve had compiled on the moths was complete. All he had to do now was sift through the notes, reorganize some papers, and help Dr. Erskine with the analysis.

All the while he wondered, how is Bucky doing?

/*******/ 

Bucky started seeing Steve less and less, and all of a sudden it was winter. Of course it’s due to the regular passage of time and not Steve’s absence but the fact that those two things coincided was almost poetic, a good metaphor for Bucky’s current state, the man himself mused. The sunlight and warmth faded fast. His winter gear seemed to weigh infinitely heavier than he remembered every time he stepped outside.

Bucky was back to walking and lighting lamps alone. He fiercely missed trying to make Steve laugh with puns and science jokes but being by himself is far from the worst thing in the world.

/*******/ 

The next time Bucky saw Steve it was almost Christmas and the blond was once again determinedly trying to climb up a lamppost.

“Are you here to bug the moths again or just me?”

Steve seemed to be expecting Bucky this time so he wasn’t startled into a fall. His feet had hit the ground again rather gracefully, actually.

“This time, just you.” Steve gave him a small smile and Bucky felt like he was basking in sunlight.

“Well, in that case…” Bucky chuckled, stepping closer to the lamppost and Steve. Pole in hand, he lit the lamp.

As the flame flickered to life, Bucky noticed someone had hung a sprig of mistletoe on the lamppost. He glanced at Steve and saw him blush. He was probably blushing too. Or maybe they’re both just pink from the cold. Colors aren’t actually very visible in this light. In the incandescent glow everything’s a yellow orange mess but it was still the most beautiful thing Bucky’s ever seen. He reminds himself that he can have this, he’s allowed to have this moment of hope and love and warmth with Steve underneath the mistletoe.

He leaned in and Steve met him halfway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah that’s the fic! I got the idea when I was doing some research on the history of streetlights last year for a school paper but any details I remember from my research are probably jumbled, i can vouch for bucky’s job description being at least kind of accurate but not steve’s
> 
> thanks for reading!!


End file.
